


Lilies

by misguidedmalfoy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Draco Malfoy Needs a Hug, Hurt/Comfort, Luna Lovegood is a Good Friend, Other, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:33:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23020102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misguidedmalfoy/pseuds/misguidedmalfoy
Summary: Draco Malfoy is all alone in this world.Luna Lovegood begs to differ.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 30





	Lilies

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! I wrote this today and I'm really happy with how it turned out. I hope you enjoy, and later, I'll be adding a work of art inspired by this story that I made.

Draco Malfoy keeps telling himself he’s fine. 

He can handle another year at Hogwarts. He’s a Malfoy, for Merlin’s sake-- not that his family name meant much these days. 

Despite his repeated self-reassurance, it’s getting harder to ignore how sweaty his shaky hands are becoming. He wipes his palms on his trousers, taking in a shaky breath. It doesn’t help his nerves.

The whispers behind his back are hard to ignore. He tells himself it doesn’t matter; if he’s been forgiven by the law, the views of his peers don’t matter. That’s what he tells himself as he carries himself through the haunted halls of Hogwarts. More reassurance. Everything is fine.  
He walks alone in the crowd of Hogwarts students. Pansy’s in America, Blaise in Italy. Theo was missing, and Goyle hadn’t spoken to him since the end of the war. He’s never been quite this alone, and he’s not sure he’s equipped to handle such loneliness. Though it doesn’t seem to matter, as he has no choice but to do so.

“It’ll be alright, Harry.” Hermione Granger’s voice reaches Draco’s ears. He looks up, and sees the three Gryffindors walking side by side. He hadn’t expected them to return after everything, but here they are. Potter seems just as nervous as Draco feels. “I hope so, Hermione,” Potter’s voice says. Draco isn’t so sure he agrees with Granger, but something tells him she may not believe her own words.

The three of them got closer, and as discreetly as possible, Draco sinks further back into the crowd. The last thing he wanted was a conflict with the highly regarded saviors of the Wizarding World. It’s just another reason for everyone to hate him. 

He succeeds in his attempt to remain hidden and releases a bated breath. He won’t be able to avoid them forever, but he can certainly try right now.  
He forces himself out of his dazed stupor as he walks through the doors of the Great Hall.

Immediately, he realizes he cannot, in fact, handle this. 

Memories flood his mind. The terror of the past blends with the new terror that washes over him as eyes across the hall fall on him. It’s like the whole room pauses around him, and the only thing he can hear is his own breath and the whispers.

“Why is he here?”  
“I cannot believe they let a Death Eater back into this school.”  
“What’s he going to do without his cronies?”

When did everyone’s whispers become so loud?  
He turns on his heel and flees the hall, nauseous and overwhelmed. His chest heaves as he pushes through the incoming students. He decides in the moment that he’s going to leave. This is too much, he’s going home, back to his bedroom. His room is safe, it doesn’t have so many horrible memories.   
He finds an empty alcove, leans back against the cool wall, and closes his eyes. He’s not sure if he’s going to vomit or faint first. He does neither, and instead, is interrupted in his solitude.

“Hello, Draco.”  
His eyes snap open and he quickly jumps into action. Standing a few feet away is Luna Lovegood. Before he can snap at her and force her to leave, she walks closer and stops in front of him. She reaches up and rests a hand on his face. He flinches, but she persists. He realizes she’s wiping tears from his cheeks. When did he start crying?

“I’m not too hungry either. Can I show you something?” She asks, and he looks at her for a moment. He feels himself nodding without much thought about it. He’s on autopilot, because if he thinks about anything for too long, he’ll surely become hysterical.   
She takes his hand and leads him away from the Great Hall. As they walk, he feels an invisible weight lifting off of his chest. He sniffles, trying desperately to ignore the onslaught of more tears. Ignorance is not bliss in this case. 

Luna stops walking, and Draco does too. He doesn’t recognize the hallway, but Luna seems to understand this.

“This is one of the reconstructed hallways. I did a bit of art, I think you’ll like it,” she says, looking over at him. He holds her gaze for a moment. She gives a smile, and he forces what surely looks like more of a wince. 

She walks forward, bringing him with her. The hallway is lit by a soft white light that seems to come from the large floor-to-ceiling windows to their right. The night outside is black, but the light comes from the window itself. An abundance of small flowers cover the glass, but leaves it transparent enough to see through to the outside. Draco notices quickly that he isn’t imagining it, but the flowers are in fact gently shifting as though there’s a gentle breeze. 

“They’re lilies.” He glances over at her, and her gaze rests on the windows. There’s no pride in her expression like he’s sure he’d have, but instead, she looks at it with a… reverence. As if the art had created itself and she was just the mouthpiece. He thinks that maybe this is true, but he may never know. Luna has always been an enigma.  
“Each flower is for someone lost, no matter their allegiance,” she comments softly, and his breath catches in his throat. He thought he was calm for the evening, but the pressure of a sob builds up in his chest. 

“I’m responsible for those deaths,” he says, barely above a whisper. He’s sure if he speaks any louder that he’ll lose control of the sob that builds up. Luna squeezes his hand and her arm presses against his as she stands closer. “You’re forgiven,” she says, and for the first time in a long time, he feels that he is. His gaze doesn’t waver from the window as he blinks away the tears.

It’s hard for him to forget the memories he has of Luna Lovegood in the basement of his house, in the regime that he helped facilitate. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, and he can barely hear himself. If he wasn’t such a coward, maybe he could’ve saved her then. Regret chokes him, and he supposes it’s in cohorts with the sob in his chest in the attempt to overthrow his calm.

“You don’t have to apologize. You were always so kind, then.” Her voice washes over him like an ocean wave. A ghost of the pain crawls over his skin as he remembers the ruthless punishment for his kindness to Luna. He could never finish his meals, and he was finally caught bringing her the leftovers one night. As soon as the memory bubbles up, he forces it back down and he takes in a shaky breath. 

“We could go to the kitchens if you’d like,” Luna suggests, and he looks back over to her face. There’s an empathetic understanding on her face, and he notices now that her hand hasn’t left his once. He also notices that his hands stopped shaking.

“Alright,” he says, and attempts a smile. He doesn’t remember the last time he smiled genuinely, but around Luna, it seems to come easily. 

She walks forward and pulls him with her, and he decides that perhaps, should the world be on his side, he will be able to do this.


End file.
